Debt, love… Fight!

A complicated girl.

She doesn’t realize it, but I do. You just have to pay attention.

It’s her mouth—those little, barely noticeable gestures she makes with her lips. She bites them when she’s trying to remember something, leaves them slightly parted if she’s distracted, curves them into a fake smile that never quite reaches her eyes.

That’s what gives her away. Her real smile is much brighter than the one she gave me today. Not that I’ve been thinking about her much… well, maybe just a little.

It’s something incipient, delicate. It’s a tiny spark, a comforting warmth.

I never thought a smile could do this to me, leave me feeling like an absolute mess. Obsess me to the point of coming back to see her, though at least I have a good excuse: It’s true, the food’s amazing.

I’m not one of those guys, I don’t chase women, I don’t talk to them, I don’t get jealous about their stupid friends. I don’t wait for them when they get off work.

What am I doing? She’s going to think I’m a stalker, maybe she’ll even call the police and that would be a problem. That damn officer Hibiki has it in for me, and I don’t even make trouble. He just needs an excuse to make me spend a couple of days in a cell, we both know it. 

I hide in the shadows while I listen to her fuss and bustle around, her idiot coworker left over an hour ago and has left her alone. That’s not good, it’s not safe to go home at this time.

Doesn’t she have anyone to worry about? To come and get her?

Obviously it’s none of my business and I should leave, but I can’t help staying exactly where I am. I would recognize those kinds of wounds anywhere, I’ve done them to myself a thousand times before my knuckles were tough enough not to bleed.

She knows how to hit. And that absurd fact, quite incompatible with having the kind of smile that would be capable of starting wars, together with serving noodle dishes in a hidden restaurant in eastern Tokyo, has me quite intrigued.

So I overcome my shyness and that kind of knot I feel in my gut. I just want to talk without being interrupted, or without that incompetent coworker of hers getting in the way, the one she keeps sneaking little looks at.

I click my tongue in annoyance as I kick a rock, and then I see her come out.

Her shoulders are slumped and she shakes almost imperceptibly.

She turns the key in the lock and then her shoulders tremble even more, she murmurs pitifully and begins to cry. Of all things, that was the last thing I expected, that that cheerful girl who punches posts, who carries trays full to the brim and shakes off her tiredness with a smile would burst into tears right in front of my very eyes.

She collapses, sits on the floor, what has led her to this pitiful state? And I do it as a reflex action, it’s instinctive, a calling in my head, both her and her sobs attract me like a moth to a flame.

I approach, I look at her. I want to wipe away her tears, I want to console her, but I don’t even know her name, isn’t that absurd?

“You’re going to be a problem” escapes me, but it’s a statement more for me than for her.  Even before the thought settled in my head I knew it was going to become personal.

She looks at me with her crystalline eyes, full of sparkles and stars. She wipes away her tears as she tries to make sense of the fact that I am at her door, watching her cry.

«What are you doing here?» she asks, her voice still shaky, as she pulls up the sleeve of her worn coat. I swallow, unsure of how to answer.

«Uh… well…»

Her eyes narrow as she waits for me to say something. I take a breath, trying to find words that sound less awkward than the truth, but not as fake as a lie.

«Your hand» I say, pointing to the bandage that she has obviously changed, «I was… wondering if you redressed the wound.»

Well, it’s not false, but obviously it’s not entirely sincere. She looks at her hand as if she had forgotten that it was attached to her arm, then she stands up, shaking her clothes off.

“I’m fine, you shouldn’t have bothered,” she says, trying to compose herself, and I give her a few moments before returning to the attack.

«Why’d you fight with a lamppost?» I ask, and she shifts her weight, trying not to let me see the tear streaks on her face.

“Who did you fight?” she retorts, however, I look at her annoyed that she has dodged my question.

“He was a big guy, but I beat him,“ I say, feeling a twinge of pride at showing myself as a victor to her, but my little waitress doesn’t seem impressed.

“You’re a big guy too,” she mutters, frowning, and I can’t deny that, but the other guy was even bigger.

I shrug.

«Are you always out this late?» I ask, glancing at the empty street. The silence of the neighborhood seems to have swallowed her up too.

«I’m used to it,» she mutters, crossing her arms. She’s stopped crying, but now she looks more annoyed by my presence.

«And… nobody comes to pick you up?»

«What’s it to you?» she snaps. Her eyes are sharp, full of suspicion now.

I raise my hands, trying to ease the tension.

“I don’t mind at all, but a girl shouldn’t be out alone at night, that’s all” I try with all my might to sound indifferent, but I don’t know if I succeeded. She continues to look at me reluctantly, I guess she doesn’t trust me. It’s not like I can blame her for that.

«You wanna… walk with me?» she asks, looking a bit surprised. I clear my throat, coughing from the cold.

«I don’t have anything going on right now,» I say, trying to act like it’s no big deal, and she frowns again. Honestly, it’s kinda cute.

She says nothing more before starting to walk, and I follow her, in two strides I catch up to her. It’s not that I’m offended that she’s so cautious, I guess if a bruised and earring-wearing guy whose name you don’t even know offers to walk you home, the least you can do is stay alert.

She looks at me coldly and distantly, stabbing me with her dark eyes over her shoulder.

“Are you a pervert?” she asks without the slightest embarrassment. I almost lose my footing from the shock.

“What!? Of course not!” I shout indignant, but she doesn’t look sorry for saying it, and I can feel my face turning red by the teasing of some little girl.

This was a terrible idea, damn it.

“No offense, but it’s not common,” she says, and it sounds like an excuse to me, she is clearly uncomfortable with my presence because I am a stranger. I clear my throat, ready to remedy the situation as soon as possible.

“It’s not normal for them to let you finish up alone so late either. In any case, my name is Ranma Saotome,“ I say, trying to make my voice sound firm and masculine, but instead I think it just comes out haughty. She continues walking with her gaze averted.

“Akane Tendô,” she says with an imperceptible nod, then she seems thoughtful. “Do you live around here?”

“More or less“ I scratch the back of my neck, the correct answer would be no, but I don’t want to give any more embarrassing explanations, ”And you?”

She seems to think about it, stops in front of a shop and sighs.

“My house is not far away, but I don’t live there anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugs as if it didn’t matter.

“Thanks for walking with me, I’ll stay here.”

I look towards what looks like a bathhouse and then at her. I guess there’s no bathtub at her place.

“I’m going in too, I need a bath,” I say, pointing to the door, and she looks at me again.

“It’s a family place and they don’t let in guys with tattoos.”

“Do you think I have tattoos?” I smile, unable to hide how funny it is that she thinks I’m a gang member, perhaps with some kind of connection to the yakuza. Well, she’s not wrong there either.

She enters the premises and greets the woman at the reception desk, who also tenses up when she sees me enter behind her.

“Akane, is he with you?“ she asks, never taking her eyes off me. Akane shrugs in response.

“He’s a customer at the restaurant,” she says as she searches through her pockets and hands her some coins. Then she gives me that suspicious, questioning look again, and disappears through one of the curtains that mark the women’s bathroom.

The receptionist clears her throat to get my attention, I hurry to take out my wallet and pay for a bath. After a while I find myself relaxing in the empty bath, with all the space to myself. This place is not bad at all.

I immerse myself in the hot water and after a few moments I get out, dry myself and get dressed, feeling the stress of the day leaving me. Will she also feel better after a bath? She wouldn’t have been crying again, would she?

Uncertainty makes me hurry, I return to the reception where the woman who welcomed us is already closing up and cleaning everything. It is well into the night and we have been her last customers.

“Has she… left?” I ask uneasily, and the woman sizes me up, but after a few moments her expression changes to a mischievous smile.

“Akane usually takes a little longer, don’t worry, she hasn’t left without you.”

That reassures me, but it also makes me feel exposed. Am I that obvious? I sit down next to a soft drink machine. After a hot bath, I always feel like something cold. I take out two containers almost by instinct, and when she appears, with her hair slightly damp and obviously in a better mood, I hand her a grape soda.

She looks at me, takes it and sits down next to me with a long sigh. I see her opening the can of soda and drinking it with a delight that only a child can experience after a whole day of excitement. She closes her eyes, smiles and sighs.

The lady who cleans the bathrooms gives me a sly look. I know exactly what she’s thinking, so I try to ignore her.

“It’s late, let’s go,” I say as I stand up, she nods and finishes her drink.

We go outside, it’s very cold compared to the pleasant temperature of the bathhouse. Akane shivers and I put my hands in my pockets.

“Thanks for the drink, my house is nearby,“ she says, pointing to the street behind, but I haven’t come this far to not walk her to the door.

“It’s all the same, I’ll feel better if I see you go in,” I shrug, and she should have realized a while ago that it’s useless to try to change my mind.

“Okay, but I really always go alone. Besides, I can defend myself.”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” I smile without wanting to offend her, but without being able to avoid sounding a little skeptical.

As she said, she lives nearby. She stops in front of an old guest house, one of those that has too many rooms.

“It’s here,” she says sheepishly, and I look towards the large building, realizing that this girl must have many more problems than I had initially thought.

“You don’t live with your family,“ I summarize almost to myself, and she squirms uncomfortably.

“It’s complicated.”

“I understand, I also have a complicated family situation,” I confess, trying to cheer her up, to build a bridge of understanding between her situation and mine. The cheerful waitress who cries when no one sees her. The girl who walks alone at night to a cheap room, with no one to accompany her.

Perhaps she punches in frustration against anything she finds with her bruised hands, perhaps she feels rage and hides it under her beautiful smile. But for today I’m afraid I won’t have any more answers.

“Goodnight, and thanks again for…walking me home,” she says after giving it some thought. I step back and smile slightly at her.

“I’ll see you around. I’m always hungry after training,” I say, saying goodbye and heading back. It’s a long way home.

.

..

…

“Where the hell have you been?” my brother asks. I drop my stuff by the door and give him a sarcastic look.

“Nice to see you too, mom.”

«This isn’t funny, Ranma. I thought you might’ve tangled with Tse Lao and his crew.»

«Those idiots wouldn’t dare…»

«They would. Especially after you took down their second-in-command. You need to be careful,» he says, folding his arms. He’s in his pajamas, the TV humming in the background. Not like he has to be awake waiting for me—we’re grown ups now.

“You also beat up one of the bodyguards, in case you’ve forgotten,” I retort, finishing taking off my trainers and heading for my room.

“But that was months ago, and everyone knows that guy was a loudmouth,” he justifies, then looks at me hurt, almost disappointed. ”It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but at least promise me it’s not dangerous.”

“I promise you I’m not involved in anything weird, I’m just going out to dinner, do you think that’s so strange?”

“Yes,” he frowns again, «I left the bath full, so hurry up.”

“I already had a bath,» I say matter-of-factly, and I don’t realize that I’ve just got myself into trouble until my brother grabs me by the jacket and points an accusing finger at me .

“It’s a girl! You’re looking at a girl!“ he exclaims, absolutely astonished. I try to get him off me, but Ryu is fucking strong.

“Of course not!” I shout, but I blush pathetically. He opens his eyes wide and lets me go.

“And you’re having a bath at her house, which means… that means…“ he says with the same anguish as if he had just discovered that I am an active member of the police force, I smooth out my clothes in annoyance.

“It’s not what you think!” I snap, but my brother doesn’t believe a word I say.

«You’ve got a girlfriend and you didn’t tell me? I tell you everything!” He’s being overly dramatic about nothing, and it’s really starting to get on my nerves.

“That’s NOT what it is!” I repeat, but he carries on, putting a hand to his chest and pretending to die in the hallway.

“I thought that the day you finally surrendered to the pleasures of the female kind, the first thing you would do would be to come to me for advice…”

“But they all leave you! I haven’t seen a woman put up with you for more than two weeks.”

“…but looks like you don’t need me, huh? You’ve always picked up things fast, even though you’re the youngest,” he whines, ignoring me. Seriously, I can’t deal with him.

“We are less than a year apart in age, and I repeat, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Ryu stops his pleading, wipes away his fake tears and looks at me coyly.

“Boyfriend then?”

“You’re dead!”

I lunge at him and try to grab him by his pajama top, but he’s strong, I know that. We end up on the floor fighting to see who can immobilize the other, and after a choke hold, followed by a leg hold, I can only surrender. Damn it, he’s much more rested than I am.

“Now confess.” he says as he grabs my legs and bends them back while I hold back a scream of pain, and the bastard continues to pull without mercy, ‘Confess!”

“Fine, yes! She’s a girl!”

“AH!» he hums victoriously, but he doesn’t loosen the hold. ”And what else?”

“She’s a waitress and I… Fuck Ryu, that hurts…“ I gasp, clawing at the wooden floor, but my brother is not a human being who understands benevolence.

“Out with it.” he says with an evil tone, and I die of fucking shame as I spit out the sad truth.

«I took her to a bathhouse, then dropped her off at her place. That’s it.»

“That’s all?” he asks disappointed, loosening his grip and I take the opportunity to get rid of him, not without “accidentally” hitting him in the ribs.

I stand up, my legs ache from the damn pull and stretch.

“Satisfied?“ I say, pretending to go to my room, but he refuses.

“I want to meet her.” He rubs his ribs while his eyes look at me full of endless curiosity.

“In your dreams.”

“Is she that beautiful?” he says with a wolfish grin, I grunt annoyed. I knew I shouldn’t have said a word to him.

“She’s not beautiful, she’s just clumsy and works too hard. I didn’t think it was right for her to go home alone.”

“Yeah right…” Obviously he doesn’t believe me at all, with a groan and his hand resting where I hit him. He sits back down on the Western-style sofa in front of the TV, “At least I’m glad you’re only in that kind of trouble.”

“You’re so fucking annoying”

«You know who you’re fighting this Friday?» he asks, completely changing the subject.

I shake my head. I don’t care about that stuff, anyway. I’m usually not interested in my opponents. My brother flips the channel, looking bored.

«You should come watch, they say this guy’s tough.»

«We’ll see,» I say, feeling pretty confident about myself, and head to bed.

.

..

…

I’ve never run through this neighborhood, and it’s not that far from my place.

Just a short detour—over a bridge, across the river, two blocks, and I’m there.. Barely ten minutes’ run and I’m standing in front of the guest house where Akane lives.

I think I could do it every day without much trouble, but of course, my waitress isn’t going to be hanging around here so early, and she really shouldn’t. I lightly stretch by the park fence and keep running. I run through quiet streets full of mist and dew, down an alley, and into another residential area that’s deserted at this hour. Or maybe not so deserted. I stop, out of breath, and there she is—standing like some kind of apparition.

I stay silent, not entirely sure if my eyes are deceiving me. It’s her, with her hair tied back in a high ponytail and an expression of longing that I have never seen before. She looks towards a huge building, then she pulls up her hood and runs. She runs. She runs too.

A strange joy takes hold of me at finding something else we have in common. It takes a moment for me to react, and by the time I do, Akane is already gone. She has a good stride for someone so short.

I also stop in front of the building, driven by a guilty curiosity.

The doors are closed, the wood weathered and worn. It’s an old house that takes up the whole block, and on the porch, you can see the faded mark where an old plaque with the family name used to be. I glance around, then leap toward the wall, peering down at the unmistakable building below.

“Is that a… a dojo?”

.

..

…

The great thing about my job is that it leaves me with a lot of free time.

I usually spend it keeping the house I share with Ryu in order, doing the shopping and laundry, looking after our mom, and of course, training.

That’s the best part—because I love to fight.

My sponsor’s generous in that sense. I have access to several gyms where I can blow off steam—punching bags, equipment, weights, tatamis. Everything is within reach. I even have keys to a few training centers that I’m pretty sure are fronts for laundering dirty money, since I’ve never seen anyone there.

Anyway, I start my routine by stretching, but my mind keeps drifting back to that street, to that house, and to that sad face.

What did she say? For some reason, I can’t quite remember her exact words—something about no longer living in her house.

I make a mental note to look up the address and ask around.

I start by hitting the punching bag, then move on to Wing Chun. After practicing leg kicks for about half an hour, I take a break to drink from my water bottle.

I stretch, then continue.

I feel the comfort of sweat rolling over my muscles, soaking my t-shirt and my temples. This is the best part. Ryu shows up after a while, eyeing me with interest.

“Three rounds?“ he says, starting to warm up. I was hoping he’d show up so I’d have someone to fight, and not just the pitiful dummy.

“Five.”

“You seem in good spirits,” he says, taking off his shoes and rolling his shoulders.

“I’m in top shape,” I boast with a crooked smile.

We start the fight and today I do manage to beat him, although only by the slightest of margins. I’m not trying to brag, but I’m the best at aerial combat.

Ryu wheezes yet smiles as I help him up off the ground.

“You were close,” I say mockingly, but he shrugs and begins to stretch.

“Do you know who you’re up against?”

“You’re such a pain… what’s the difference? The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

Ryo sighs exasperatedly, I love getting under his skin.

“Suit yourself, but rumor has it they’re going to bet big on him.”

I shrug.

“More margin for me.”

“Heard anything from Mom?” he asks bluntly. I click my tongue, trying not to sound worried.

“She hasn’t answered my calls for two weeks.”

“Well, maybe she lost her phone again.”

“Or it was stolen…”

“Maybe she went on a trip. You know how much she loves to spend money in hot spring towns,» Ryu says, nodding.

“And at the pachinko,” I add upset.

Our life’s always been a mess, with parents who were both personally and financially irresponsible, their heads everywhere except raising two kids. I’m still surprised that Ryu and I haven’t turned out much worse.

In any case, she always shows up, even if it’s just to ask for money; she’s a survivor.

Which reminds me… My stomach growls in time with my thoughts. I head to the gym shower and quickly get ready, checking myself in the mirror a few times to make sure the bruises Ryu gave me aren’t too bad.I put a couple of band-aids on my face, let my hair down, then quickly braid it back.

I grab my gym bag, and Ryu watches me with a predatory look.

“Where are you eating?”

“I’m not telling you,” I mutter as I walk through the gym, not wanting to share my little secret. My brother pouts, trying hard to look hurt.

“That’s so mean, little brother.”

“You’d scare her with that ugly face.”

“Look who’s talking.”

I flip him off as I step outside and take a deep breath. I smile as my steps hasten me towards her.

.

..

…

I walk through the door of the restaurant, and the smell of ramen and dumplings hits me right away. My stomach growls angrily—I’m starving, but my mind drifts elsewhere. I look for her, scanning every corner in less than a second, feeling uneasy when I can’t find her. I sit in my usual spot and wait.

I can’t help but glance over at the door separating the kitchen from the dining area, but to my complete disappointment, all I see is the lazy guy. He sees me, and I know he dislikes me just as much as I dislike him.

With a deep sigh he comes over to take my order, as if he were doing me a fucking favor.

“What’ll it be?» he says, sizing me up with a surly look on his face. If he could, I’m sure he’d kick me out.

My eyes drift over his shoulder, once again fixed on the door, hoping she’ll come to rescue me from this idiot. As if he can read my mind he looks over his shoulder too, and when his eyes meet mine they’re full of mocking glee.

“She’s not here,” he says, I clear my throat, trying to appear nonplussed. 

“What did you say?“ I reply, scratching the back of my neck and raising my lip in an involuntary snarl. Well, perhaps slightly voluntary, but the waiter smiles as if he could see all my cards and knew he was the winner of the game.

“Akane is not here,” he points out, and hearing his name from that mouth makes me furious. My guts are roaring with a different kind of hunger. Something shapeless condenses in the pit of my stomach.

“Well, I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,» I say, standing up and stepping toward him, measuring our height and build. I come out the clear winner, though, to my annoyance, I have to admit he’s got guts because he doesn’t back down one bit.

“I thought so. You know where the exit is,» he says, turning to take care of another table, completely ignoring me. I click my tongue and walk out, feeling more than ever like kicking something —or someone.

.

..

…

The place is packed. The spectators crowd onto the benches that form a steep slope, tier upon tier down towards the pit. The electronic music blares out at full volume, the cigarette smoke mingles with the scents of expensive liquor, of the women’s overpowering perfumes, of adrenaline and sweat.

It smells like Friday night— it smells like fight night.

It smells like blood and iron on the canvas, deep in the heart of the place, where everything feels both luminous and dark at once.

But I’m focused and I don’t stop to say hello, I head for the changing rooms, for the one I have reserved like the star that I am here. It’s more like a small dressing room, with a yellowish leather sofa that surely has too many stories to tell. There’s a fridge stocked with drinks, a cupboard for odds and ends, a table, a full-length mirror, and dim lighting—more by accident than design, since no one cares much about lighting here.

The rich stay rich for a reason: they don’t waste a single yen on the basics.

I drop my sports bag and start getting dressed for the fight. Just as I’m starting to wrap my hands, there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in!“ I shout so that my voice can be heard above the commotion outside, and Ryu enters with a concerned look on his face, looking me up and down.

“You didn’t find out who you’re fighting today, did you?” he says by way of greeting, and I continue with my task conscientiously.

“I told you already, I’m not interested in knowing the name of the poor bastard whose ass I’m going to kick,» I reply, starting with my right hand. The bandages are black today. I like them that way because the blood splatters are less obvious, and although the audience goes crazy when they see a tooth or an especially spectacular gush, I don’t share their taste for the gory stuff.

“Mousse,» my brother hisses, his voice full of disbelief. I stop the bandaging and look at him as if he’d just lost his mind.

“Mousse?” I repeat, frowning. “He’s in China.”

“He’s back.”

“It can’t be,» I say, jumping up and walking to the door before turning back and collapsing onto the sofa.

“You heard correctly.”

“When?”

“They say he came back a few days ago, and that he’s been training.”

“That’s why that bastard Tarô’s been so mysterious lately,” I mutter, resuming the task of wrapping my hands with more intensity.

“He wants to replace you,” Ryu says, nodding like I don’t already know what he’s playing at.

“Well, I’m planning to disappoint him again.”

“He’s dangerous, you should have him checked and searched before going down to the pit.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t already know,” I mutter, rubbing the scar under my left pec—the knife wound he gave me over a year ago, the last time we fought.

But even as I protest, I know it’s pointless—Mousse is the king of deception, able to hide weapons with the same ease as a magician. I clench my teeth and finish adjusting my bandages. I know his thing is personal, but I don’t give a shit.

Ryu seems nervous, pacing around worried, protesting, kicking the armchair.

“I beat him once, I can beat him twice,” I say with my best wry smile, but my brother doesn’t smile back, he swallows hard and nods briefly.

We step outside, greeted by the roaring of voices. It’s like a heatwave—a slap in the face of smells, lights, screams, and sounds. I frown but force myself to smile confidently.

It’s important for the bets, and let’s not kid ourselves, in this place it’s the only thing that matters: the damn money. Unfortunately I’m no exception either, I love to fight, but the percentage I get if I win is a more than respectable incentive for me to keep getting into this sleazy dive and risking my neck.

And today more than ever I’m aware of it.

I climb the narrow, steep staircase leading to the pit—steps designed by a madman, barely wide enough for a foot, with random gaps, some high, some low, some broken… it’s a descent into madness where if you don’t break your neck on the way, they’ll break it for you in the ring.

I reach the bottom followed by Ryu, who is also well used to the route, and we wait.

The pit, as its name suggests, is practically buried between the stands, in a verticality as dizzying as it is impossible. The seats at ground level are paid for at an exorbitant price, but they say it’s worth it.

The large net that separates the wrestling area from the spectators stands over five meters high, made of steel, flexible enough to let me perform acrobatic jumps—something I know drives them wild. They can almost touch us when we climb through it, they stretch out their arms hoping to get a scratch, a piece of cloth, an experience to tell.

It’s no accident that my specialty is aerial combat—something my father taught us, and the one thing he actually did well. I begin my stretching routine as the audience gets more and more excited.I glance up past the blinding spotlights towards the box, and there he is—that fucking rich kid. Tarô smiles as he sits on his throne, surrounded by important people and stunning women, he doesn’t hold back when it comes to showing off his power and influence. He is the king of this place, and he loves to show it off.

I grunt, trying to let him know that I know of his trap, but the smug bastard only winks at me while raising a glass full of champagne towards me. Fine, he’ll get his show —but it won’t be the one he’s hoping for.

And then the audience goes wild, and I know exactly why. My opponent for the night descends the steep stairs as nimbly as I do, leaping and dodging the deathtrap of broken steps.

Mousse reaches the pit and halts before stepping into the cage where we’ll bleed.

There are no rules, no honor—only the one who’s still standing after the fight wins.

“You look in shape, have the bruises healed yet?” I shout over the roar, Mousse sheds the thick cheongsam he always wears, leaves it on the ground and then enters the cage.

“Same here, Saotome. Haven’t you tired of this place yet?”

“It pays my bills,” I say, craning my neck. Mousse is also starting to warm up, pulling up his thick glasses and shaking his shoulders. He’s left on a sports t-shirt, like me, and doesn’t seem to be carrying any weapons.

With no referee, anything goes here. We finish warming up and Tarô takes the microphone connected to the PA system of this hole.

“Welcome once again to the best free fighting show in the world!” The cheers and the warmth of the crowd mix together until they turn into howls. “Our fighters today will not disappoint you! He needs no introduction, but in one of the corners we have our undefeated champion, the owner of the ring, our acrobatic karateka… Ranma Saotome!”

When he shouts my name I greet the audience with what I hope is a shy smile, albeit one full of confidence, and then all my attention is focused on my rival. Mousse also watches me, completely focused.

“Some of you already know tonight’s challenger, he is none other than a powerful martial artist from the East. Fresh off the boat from China, I present to you Mousse, the magician of illusion!”

The voices intensify again as Mousse and I look at each other defiantly, Tarô keeps talking, but I tune him out, I hear nothing until the bell that marks the start of the fight rings.

I size up my enemy, watching his every step, his every mistake.

“If you’re still hung up on that, get over it,” I say to him as I walk sideways, but Mousse doesn’t seem to hear me, in fact he seems oblivious to my words.

“That’s water under the bridge.”

“Oh, yeah? Do you want me to believe that you’ve only come for a rematch?”

“Believe what you want, Saotome, but the truth is…” he pounces on me, he throws his hand and I narrowly dodge it, it was a quick and lethal attack, straight at my head. My cheek is opened with a trickle of blood, either he’s very fast or he has a weapon hidden in some way. I’d swear it’s the latter, “that this time I’ll win.”

“Heh” I smile as I run my thumb over the wound, I clench my fists. “Keep dreaming, four-eyes.”

He clenches his teeth, it seems that I am finally achieving what I intended from the very beginning, to drive him mad. Mousse attacks again and this time he unleashes a series of punches and kicks that I dodge by jumping around the canvas. I know every inch of this damn place, every hole in the floor, every broken or dented piece of wood.

He corners me against the fence, but before he can land a hard blow I slip across the floor, between his legs, and apply a hold that makes him kiss the canvas. Mousse squirms and breaks free, but I know the moral victory is mine.

“I promise you I didn’t seduce her, she’s the one who kept chasing me!” I say as he stands up looking deadly serious, pissed off. I see something shining in his hands.

“Shut up! As if I’d believe you!” he exclaims, clenching his fists and delivering a brutal kick to my side. I block him but he’s strong, I know that much. When Mousse pushes me against the fence it resonates like thunder. I gasp when he manages to land a punch in the middle of my stomach. It’s true that the blind guy has been training.

I sink to one knee for a second before getting back up again. Well, if he’s not willing to listen to my explanations, then to hell with him. It’s time to fight back, I turn trying to buy time while our-eyes adjusts his lenses to his face again. I don’t even understand how they manage to stay on his ears, being these thick and heavy bottle-bottom glasses.

I kick him low and follow up with a series of quick blows that manage to destabilize him, I manage to hit him back with a high kick that hits him on the chin, I think I can almost hear his teeth chattering. Then I jump and run away, Mousse is more dangerous at close range.

“Stop running away like a coward,” he stammers, and I can’t help but be outraged by his comment.

“Run away?! The only one who ran away to China with his tail between his legs was you!”

“Damn you!” he lashes out in a suicide attack, and I climb the fence as I know how, planning my special air attack, but Mousse has other plans. The bastard grabs my ankle and pulls me down, and boy does he make me fall. I turn in the air trying to land out of his reach, but he has me well trapped and in the blink of an eye, in the exchange of a precise blow as I descend and he ascends I feel the cold metal on my side. I fall bleeding to the ground and do several somersaults, again trying to get away from him.

The audience goes wild.

I clutch my ribs knowing that the cut isn’t deep, but it burns like all hell. Tiny needles pierce my skin as I feel my blood liquid and hot, and the air fills with the ferrous scent of my own body. I’m not going to get dizzy over such a little scratch.

I look up and see dark faces, shining eyes, mouths open in cheers and screams. And in the ruckus, in the confusion, I think I see something that obviously isn’t real. She’s not here.

Akane looks at me with her mouth open, astonished, pale. I blink and force myself to face Mousse again. How pathetic am I, has it hurt so much not to be able to see her that I imagine her in this place?

Of course she’s not here, stupid. She’s got enough problems as it is without getting into more trouble. I shake my head and banish her from my thoughts, or rather exile her to a place at the back of my head, at least for the moment.

“You seem distracted, Saotome,” Mousse taunts with a very fast movement of his legs, he seems to be dancing around me, knowing that he has hurt me, he’s such a dick! 

“You’re still a cheating bastard, you blind idiot!”

He replies with a cheap villain’s laugh and attacks me again, I grab my side and somersault on the floor while his foot crashes into the exact spot where I was standing just a few moments before. The whole pit reverberates with the sound of metal, and something else. I turn to see Mousse withdraw his leg, and at the base of his shoe a shiny, sharp blade gleams.

Does he intend to kill me?!

I wipe the blood off with my T-shirt and grit my teeth, I’d better finish this quickly, or that madman is capable of skewering me like yakitori, and the worst thing is that everyone is going to love it, especially that ballbuster Tarô.

I concentrate, adopt a defensive pose and wait for him. I feel my pulse in my temples, force my breathing to calm down, exhale, inhale, concentrate on his movements instead of my pain. Mousse attacks me again and at the last moment he feints, I see his right hand hide and a second later, fast as an eagle in full dive, he reappears to stab me, I turn in time and grab the blade with both hands while I pivot on my left foot. I drag Mousse next to me and let go just to take advantage of the millisecond that his confusion lasts in my favor.

Now he’s mine. I drive the full weight of my knuckles into his jaw and then execute my specialty, a devastating series of blows with my legs, arms and elbows.

The blind man crashes to the canvas, and before he can even try to get up I pounce on him again and pin him down. I want him to beg for mercy, I want him to give up before anyone really gets hurt.

“Damn you… Saotomeeee!” he whimpers as I smash his head even harder against the floor and feel the glass of his glasses shatter on his face. That must have hurt, because he starts screaming even louder, but I don’t let go, not until I’m sure he’s not going to stab me again.

“You’re a nutcase, Mousse! Don’t ever challenge me again! Is that clear to you!?”

The screams and boos from the audience tell me that they are getting bored, they want blood, they want a knockout, something definitive. But I’m not going to give it to them, I don’t want to be responsible for this bastard suffering lifelong consequences because of his own stupidity.

I finally get up, hoping that Mousse won’t do the same, that he’ll stay on the ground accepting defeat, but of course it’s never that easy. He rises like a vengeful spirit, with the lenses of his glasses stuck in his cheeks, bleeding profusely, like dark rivers of tears.

And in his desperate onslaught I shake him off, more out of disgust than fear, I dig my foot into his temple and he falls to the ground in an almost artistic arc. And he doesn’t move anymore, I thank all the gods for that.

The pit fills with screams, lights and people shaking the fence. I try to smile, but I’m not in the mood, bringing that guy back from China has been a real low blow. Tarô and I are going to have more than a few words this time.

At last they open the cage and I leave the fighting area, Ryu greets me with a sweaty hug. I pat him on the shoulder to ask him to let me go.

“It’s nothing, really,“ I begin, but my brother examines me angrily until he finds the cut.

“I told you! He was armed! I warned you and you still let him hurt you!” he exclaims furiously.

“Hey! Do you think it was easy not to turn me into a fucking yakitori!?”

“You should have been faster!”

“Then you should have done it!”

“Are you all right?” A female voice interrupts our discussion. Not just any voice, that particular voice. I turn swiftly only to find myself face to face with what I was sure was an illusion, the result of my stupid longing.

My heart leaps in my chest as Akane approaches with a worried and yet cautious expression. Ryu blinks, I open my mouth to speak but can’t get a single word out.

People are crowding around, the noise is deafening.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, absolutely perplexed, and she crosses her arms in a challenging manner, raises her chin and frowns.

“What do you think? I’ve come to fight.”

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AUTHOR’S NOTE:

I’ve always deeply enjoyed writing from Ranma’s perspective. I really like imagining his thoughts, and especially, the way he thinks about Akane, with all his clumsiness and ramblings. 

He hasn’t had an easy life in this fic, and we’ll be unearthing his backstory little by little. I find the action hard to narrate, and this fic is full of fights, so I hope I keep improving my skills in that regard. 

Thank you for all your comments, and such a warm reception, it encourages us to work harder.

Kisses.

Lum

ILLUSTRATOR’S NOTE:

Ranma’s POVs are always my favorites. This guy is beyond saving—he’s completely fallen (in this and every possible universe).

I hope you like the illustrations for this chapter! I decided to play around a bit with the style. Let’s see what I come up with for the third one…

Thank you so much for your lovely comments and all the love for the first chapter. The story is unfolding beautifully, and I know you’ll love it more and more.

love yaaaaa

Isa